


The Boy On The Beach

by lil_p1ss_baby



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Bottom Ryan Ross, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, M/M, POV Ryan Ross, Ryan-centric, Top Brendon Urie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 15:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21210923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_p1ss_baby/pseuds/lil_p1ss_baby
Summary: "So tell me, how can you fall out of love?".Ryan Ross has always been alone, but someone wants to break down the walls hes managed to build. How can it all go so wrong?.Ryden au





	1. - Wiki how: To get over pain

**Author's Note:**

> This is bad wowie.

Just off the coast of a small, bleak town in England, there’s a beach. It’s always cold there, like a frosty winters morning, just without the hot coco and warm blankets to cuddle into when you’re feeling cold and alone. The beach lies on a bed of rocks and pebbles, there’s no sand that’s hot to the touch or a place where you can put a towel and just lie down to escape the world. It’s just a plain, boring old beach in a rural place, but it’s the one place that makes me feel safe.

I was 10 when my mom scraped enough money together to pay for flights out of Vegas to the town by the sea, my dad was a drunk and she had had to hide the money in pots and pans around the house so he wouldn’t find it. She had bought me a suitcase and told me to put all of my clothes in there for our big ‘family holiday’. I just packed my notebook and we had to buy new things there. The trip wasn’t anything special when I think about it, we walked around the shops trying to avoid the relentless fall of the rain and all we ate were the soggy fish and chips that mom would bring back to the hotel room, but it was enough.

Every year I would beg to go back and get away from my everyday life. My dads drinking got worse and the kids at school would make fun of the way my stomach curved in on my small frame, but that one trip a year made it all seem fine. That one trip was the time where my parents didn’t argue, and my dad didn’t touch any alcohol, my mom was happy and I couldn’t ask for more. I was satisfied.

When I was 16 my mom passed away, she was ill but she knew it would tear us apart so she tried to keep it a secret but ended up sprawled across out bathroom floor coughing up her lungs with blood and traces of her own spit falling down her chin for me to see. The funeral wasn’t much, a few close family friends with the kid next door by my side, I miss her, there’s no resurrection or way to bring her back and I know it, it just hurts sometimes.

Two years later I moved out, the kid from next door coming with me on my blind adventure. My plans were to move to the beach town, live along the colourful houses with my troubles put behind me, but together we barely had enough money for the apartment and flights we ended up getting that weren’t even close to my dreams.

The kids name was Spencer. He was nice enough.

I got a call yesterday. I heard the phone ring from my place on the sofa but I didn’t have an incentive to answer it. We didn’t get calls often, me and Spence, and when we did they were always for him, who was going to call me anyway? Either way I flung myself up onto my feet and picked up the phone to press the cool end of the receiver against my ear.

The guy on the other end hung up too soon, telling me what he needed then leaving me to stand in shock with shaking hands. My dad was dead, he had been in the hospital for days but no one had thought to tell me until the day he finally did it, the day he finally managed to drink himself to death.

I don’t think I’m sad. He was my dad but it wasn’t as though we were close, I had spent too many nights hiding in my closet and trying to avoid the smell of alcohol on his breath to care about him anymore. I don’t plan on going to the funeral I know that, I just need to get away.

I need to go somewhere where it’s quiet and I can’t think of my worries because the wind is whistling in my ear, dancing with the waves rhythmically.

I stub the end of my cigarette on the ash tray, watching the sparks all flicker before the smoke drifts up in pretty little swirls. There’s a record playing in the corner, occasionally faltering when the bent needle hits the vinyl for the first few spins. My breath smells like cigarettes and coffee, I’ve heard some people think that’s a good smell, but for me it just makes me seem old, like I’m stale and ready to just fade away, with unspoken words lingering on my lips.

An empty bottle of alcohol lies on the table, I’ll clear it off later I tell myself, but I know I won’t, I’ll be too busy drowning in my own sorrows and erasing the same line of the poem I’m writing over and over again. I look at the cigarette in my hand, tapping the edge lightly to shake off the ash. I’ve never really liked them but they give me something to do.

“You should go back to the beach then,” Spencer says in his parental like tone, “I could give you money for that hotel you used to stay at.”

I shake my head quickly. “I don’t need pity.”

“It’s not pity,” Spencer says, he’s brushing away the tears that aren’t really there with his thumb, his other hand resting on the small of my back protectively. “You feel safe there, all I want is for you to have that again.”

He tucks the little bag of money into my hands with a smile, “You can take the car.”

Spencer’s nice, I don’t know how long it will last but he’s still nice.

I stand up, pulling him in for a brief hug and our cheeks brush when we pull apart. “One week.” He says finally. “Go, clear your mind then come back in one piece okay?”

He smiles shortly, eyes twinkling up at me for a moment too long before I think to even answer. I mumble my thanks, watching intently as he goes to pack my bags because god knows I can’t. The record’s stopped playing, the silence filled with my own thoughts and I throw the cigarette down onto the tray with a huff.

It doesn’t take long to pack, then I’m putting my bag in the car and pressing my foot down on the pedal slowly, remembering to drive along the left side of the road a fraction too late.

I just hope that little beach town remembers me.


	2. - Wiki how: To stop showing fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter of this little adventure that i decided to write. Why, i dont fully know.

I’ve never really liked driving. The knowledge that with one jerk of the wheel someone’s life may be in my hands scares me more than you could ever imagine. I’m not going to crash I tell myself, my eyes set on the road ahead of me, and I do my best to convince myself that I’m right but for some reason I can’t shake the thought of somebody giving up their last breaths because of me. My hands shake when I bring them off of the wheel to run a sweaty palm through my hair, but I try not to think about it and let the road take me where it wants.

I drive down the familiar streets, pulling into the hotel’s small parking area where cars are crammed into almost every space available. They probably need more space but there’s no where to build it. Spencer’s car creaks when I open the door and I climb out with my head low. The money’s crammed into my pocket in a more than suspicious looking white bag but I still manage to ignore the strange looks the woman at the desk gives me when I pay for a room.

I lug my bag up the stairs, not bothering to mess with the elevator that probably hasn’t been fixed from the last time I was here. My rooms a blinding white, bleak from the walls to the covers of the bed, the only splash of colour being the pinkish scarf that I had draped around my neck before I left. It’s painfully average, but I’m alone with my thoughts and that’s all I want.

I take the pack of cigarettes out of my pocket, slotting one between my lips with shaking hands and lighting up the end to take a long drag. The thick smoke fills my lungs and when I breathe it out it dances in the air with little sparks. I always thought cigarettes were meant to be some kind of lame way to rebel, suffocating yourself with smoke to dull your pain but battling against your own addiction none the less. Now I just think of them as a way to pass the time. The nicotine runs through my veins and I look up at the small window in the corner of the room only to see the swirls of smoke blocking my view.

It’s only 7 o’clock, but from living in England for just over a year I know that it’s already dark out and there’s no point in leaving the hotel. Instead I just take a couple of pounds out of the money Spencer gave me and wandered down to the vending machines by the stairs.

The drone of the cooler rings in my ears as I scan the machine for what I want. I punch in the numbers, dropping in the money and waiting for it to start moving. It doesn’t.

I wait for a second, idly tapping on the side of the machine before pressing the numbers again and hoping for a different result.

“Hey,”

My mind goes black for a second before I turn around to face the voice and am met with the sight of raven black hair and the most beautiful brown, chocolate like eyes. “Hi,” I choke out.

The guy smiles at me, innocent and childlike wonder in his laugh and he steps around me to grip onto the sides of the machine. “You’ve got to shake them a bit,” He says and I can tell he isn’t from around here, his accent similar to my own and not matching the locals’.

My food drops down and the guy bends over to pick them up, giving me a view of his very nicely shaped ass may I say. He passes them into my hands, our fingers brushing and making me shiver. “See you later sugar”

And he’s out of my life before I even know his name.

.

The next day I walk around the town, a white scarf draped around my neck and my eyes blocked by the small curls that fall down in front of them. My jaw shakes in the cold and I hug my coat closer around myself. “Fuckin’ weather.” I mutter and my shoe scrapes against the edge of the road as I hop up to stand on the wall surrounding the beach.

Sitting by the waves is a boy, he has his legs crossed and his nose buried in a book that I can’t see the title of. He’s humming lightly. The tune barely reaches my ears but I don’t think I recognise it, it’s soft, pretty I guess and I find myself staying in place to listen to him.

I don’t think he notices me or if he does he doesn’t mind. His legs are bouncing up and down as he reads and it makes me wonder how he can even concentrate with that and the loud whistling of the wind as it clashes with the water.

I breathe in slowly, the air thick against my tongue and a struggle for me to breathe out. My thumb absent-mindedly strokes against the sleeves of my shirt where my wrists sit, I can feel where my veins pop out just where they shouldn’t and make me think that there’s something wrong but I just try and put all of those thoughts to the back of my head so that I can pretend for at least a day.

Looking back up at the man, I frown, he’s stood up now, the book still lying on the bed of rocks just out of the way of the water as he tugs his hoodie further around himself. I can see him better, his face familiar but not something I can recognise.

My hands press down against the wall, leaving little marks and dints on my palms where the bricks stick out and I admire the pattern for a second too long. In the pocket of my jeans is a half empty pack of cigarettes which I tug out and place one against my lips, trying not to drop it as I search for my lighter.

“That’ll kill you you know.”

I glance up, my eyes locking with the guy that had just been on the beach, and by the looks of it he recognises me too.

“Vending machine guy,” He says, clicking his fingers and pointing at me, “You got a light?” I don’t respond, instead just passing him the lighter and waiting for him to find one of my lifelines and set it aflame.

Apparently they call cigarettes ‘fags’ in England, I’ve never heard it but the name’s fitting.

He smiles at me, throwing the lighter up and down in his hand but not actually using it. “Why do you smoke?” He sighs. “It’s not good for you.”

I’m taken aback by his question, choking on the smoke and coughing violently. “Distraction.”

“You’re kind of cute,” He says with a shrug. “It’s a shame you’re trying to ruin your lungs.”

“What?”

He tosses the lighter back into my hands. “See you around sugar.”

I bite down on my bottom lip to try and hide my smile, eyes flickering away from him and back to the beach where the book still sits. I wander over to it and my eyes widen when I recognise the cover.

‘Invisible Monsters by Chuck Palahniuk’.

I think I’m in love.


	3. - Wiki how: To be less awkward

I wake up smiling. The memory of the boy from yesterday still fresh on my mind when I turn onto my side and check my phone for any calls or messages but lacking to see anything of actual importance.

I shower in the warm water, my fingers tracing along the old scars that rest on my chest, and legs and some lining my wrists. They’re fading but still present and I’m learning to accept that. I dry off on the beige coloured towels and pull on an itchy shirt with a bright coloured vest to make me stand out against the dull colours of my room.

I use my fingers to run my hair into natural looking curls and force a smile at my reflection, repeating the mantra that I say every day in a strained voice.

“You are pretty,” I say, cringing as the words leave my mouth but continuing none the less. “You deserve to be happy. Your scars don’t show failure they show resilience in bad times. You are enough. You’re enough.”

My eyes sting when I close them and I chuckle under my breath as my words seep in just so that I can start to believe them. I walk with a slight skip in my step and push my phone and wallet into my pocket.

The rocks on the beach hurt the soles of my feet even under my shoes when I walk over them to sit on the edge and watch over the waves. The wind isn’t that strong today, I can feel the cold on the edge of my nose and my face is probably tinted pink.

I can see a guy, he’s shirtless in the cold winter air and sitting on a surfboard with his shoulders slumped down. He looks kind of sad, but what could he expect trying to surf in England during the winter months, he doesn’t really know what he’s doing if you ask me.

The person notices me I guess, because before I can understand what’s happening he’s lying on his front on the board and making his way back to the shore with a mischievous grin on his face. “Hey,” He yells, “Smoky vending machine boy, right?”

I can see the same brown eyes and plump lips coming towards me. He brushed himself off, the water probably causing him to freeze in the cold. He sits himself down next to me and I try not to stare at the water dripping down his chest. “Yeah?”

“I’m Brendon.” He pushes a hand towards me, probably intending for me to shake it but instead I just raise my eyebrows and make no attempt to move. “And you are?”

“Ryan,” I say quietly.

He was talking to me. Why was he talking to me? People don’t come and sit down with the weird kid, normally they pass him a fleeting glance that tells them too much about there own lives if you know where to look. “You’re cute Ryan.” He puts weight on my name like it’s supposed to trigger something and when it doesn’t he fills the space with a shit eating grin. “Are you gay?”

“What?” I splutter.

Brendon rubs the back of his head sheepishly, like he’s trying to take back the words he just said and put them together in a better order. “Do you think you’d want to grab coffee some time?”

I bite my lip chewing on the skin and flinching when it starts to hurt. “Yeah. I’d like that.” I say without thinking.

Brendon’s face lights up and he jumps to his feet. He unfolds his shirt and pulls it over his body swiftly making me have to suppress my annoyance. “Let’s go.”

“What?”

I narrow my eyes at him but he just stares back. “We’re going to go get coffee.”

“Now?” I ask in confusion.

He bends down and takes my hands in his own to pull me up to his eye level. “Let’s go,”

.

“You’re not from around here are you?” He asks, taking a long sip out of his cup without taking his eyes away from me.

“Vegas.” I think I’ve found my confidence again, that or he makes me feel comfortable with saying more than just a few passing words. “Moved to England with my friend a year ago.”

He raises his eyebrows at my words, grinning before starting to answer. “Me too. I’m just on a company trip at the moment.”

“Surfing is a part of your job?”

Brendon smirks, bumping my hand with his cup. “Scouting out the land, nothing too interesting. What about you?”

I think about it for a second, not fully sure what to answer with. “I guess I write a bit, I’m not that good but I can string words into a line and sometimes they fit. I take whatever jobs I can get really, like articles for newspapers or sections in magazines, its decent pay.”

He smiles at me, his lips curving up with interest. “So how long are you here for Ryan?”

“A week,” I say with a nod of my head. “You?”

“Until my company has what they need, I don’t really know.” His hair kept on falling down in front of his face in small strands and I resist the urge to just lean forwards and push them to the side, planting a kiss on the side of his cheek with chapped lips. “But anyway, what are you doing tomorrow?”

“Tell me?”

“Dinner at five, cute little restaurant down the street,” He says, confidence radiating from his body, “It’s fancy but I want to treat you.”

“Six.” I say. I lean back in my seat with a false face, letting my hands play with the hem of my sleeve. “It takes me a while to get ready.”

He laughs quietly under his breath. “Six,”

.

I think some people were made so that the bad times don’t seem so bad. They sort of numb you, make you forget about all the things that make life painful.

Brendon does that for me. He’s a like summer breeze next to the cold winter here in Ye Olde England. He’s different I guess, I’m so used to just speaking to Spencer and just trying to forget, that it kind of feels weird to just sit down and have a nice normal date, or at least I hope it was a date.

My hand itches for another cigarette as I lead Brendon down the street, showing him the way to my hotel room with no intention of actually taking one out to press the stick to my lips. We laugh at the joke he tells with no grace, probably looking odd to the locals who can just see us bounding down the streets with our arms around our chests as we cough up the last of our laughs.

“And here we are,” I say in a small voice gesturing to the boring building with open arms.

Brendon’s eyes trail up and he laughs. “You’re staying here?” He sounds apprehensive. “No you’re way too good for this place.”

He doesn’t really know that but I like the compliment.

He sees my amusement and raises his eyebrows “I’m serious, you aren’t staying here.”

“You were here yesterday Brendon what are you talking about?”

He chuckles, no venom in his voice but I can hear him doing his best not to sound hurtful. “A one night thing Ryan.” He looks me with an inviting glance, “The company’s payed for a better place and the room’s pretty big, you can stay with me.”

I shake my head beside myself, knowing I want to stay with him but at the same time not wanting the leave the place where my family used to sit together and play the card games that I was too young to know but would still enjoy the time. “Pick me up at six, I’ll be at the beach.”

He sighs, nodding his head slowly and giving me a small wave of dismissal before turning around and stalking back to his hotel and even though I had pushed him away it kind of hurt to see him go.

.

As soon as the light hits my face in the early hours of the morning I’m up and walking down the cobbled streets with a scarf wrapped around my neck. The weather’s colder today, a thick layer of fog coating the ground and folding around my legs. The sun’s slowly rising from the horizon, its light blinding me and by reflex my hand comes up to shield my eyes. The sleeves of my shirt are hanging low on my wrists, grazing past my fingers without grace and I trudge over to the pebbled floors of the beach, hopping over the wall only to notice the large note that was pinned on the side.

‘Closed from the 6th of July for construction of the extended Plage Hotel and parking area’

Uh what the fuck?

My mouth drops open instantly and I gape in horror at the sign, feeling the familiar stinging of my eyes as the words finally seem to settle in. They were going to get rid of the beach. I bite my lip, forcing it all to the back of my mind and continuing to walk over to where the water’s brushing against the rocks. I let my legs give way and drop down onto the ground with sharp edges digging into my skin.

I’ve always liked the beach, it felt safe, the gentle rolls of the waves drifting idly over my feet. Why would someone want to get rid of that?

When I was 14 my dad started getting worse. He was spiralling downhill and I couldn’t save him, but it’s not like I really tried. I could feel him slipping, no matter what I did he was still slipping. I was holding onto him with everything I had but he didn’t want to be saved. Sometimes you just have to step back, let them fall, because trying and failing, well that would be more painful wouldn’t it?

Sometimes my parents argued. They would scream the worst things at each other and just expect me to sit upstairs and pretend that everything was fine the next morning. I wouldn’t forget, I’d just keep the memories close and dump them all out at sea when we came down to the beach all holding hands and pretending.

Those times at the beach were the best times in my life, but now those men in high vis jackets and big yellow hats want to rip the memories away and there’s nothing I can do about it.

I smile feeling the cold water flowing up the rocks to inch at my hands and my feet and occasionally jumping up at my legs. There are tears running down my face, or at least I think there are, I don’t really know but I’ll let it happen. They’ll dry on my skin and I’ll wash them off later with soap that stings my skin and lukewarm water that drips from the sink even when I turn it off.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

He sits down next to me, looking at my red face and frowning. “What’s wrong sugar?”

“Nothing.” I say, finding his hand and lacing his fingers through mine. He squeezes my hand and I smile to myself. “What are you doing here?”

“Company stuff.” Brendon says, shrugging off the question as though it was nothing. “What about you?”

“Thinking.” Our knees are touching and he knows by the slight shake of my hand that I’m scared, he’s barely know me for a day but still he knows more than he should.

“About what?” He asks.

“Stuff.”

He scoffs without any malice but still rolls his eyes as though he knows that there’s more to the story but it isn’t one that I’m ready to tell. “Six o’clock,” He reminds me like he thinks that I could forget.

And I nod, letting his fingers slip from mine and the tears start to fall once again.

.

“You absolute faggot,”

“Why hello to you too Spence,” I say with a smirk.

“You didn’t call me at all yesterday you dick, whose cock were you sucking instead?”

I try not to laugh, hearing his amusement through the phone, “Why would I tell you?”

“Fine,” He says with a sigh. “But in that case you are going to sit there and listen to me rant about my shockingly absent sex life.”

I throw my head back, knees curling into my chest as I listen to Spencer’s angered rambling. It’s become normal at this point, him and his boyfriend have sex he gets angry after, thinking the guys screwing someone else when in fact the lube all ‘disappeared’ when Jon was beating his meat to Spencer’s photo’s. I’ll give Spencer a few empty words of advice and this, this is the best part people.

He’ll forget all about it and we do it all again the next day.

“Ryan, helllloooooo,” Spencer’s voice interrupts my thoughts and I place the phone next to my ear and forget to speak. “Alright who is it?”

I frown, not quite getting what he’s trying to say. “What?”

“Whose the guy?”

“I don’t know what you mean?”

“Ryan!” I can practically hear him pacing up and down the room with a scowl on his face as he tries to figure me out.

I sigh, “His name’s Brendon. He’s all hot and funny and nice and he’s just oh my god.”

“AWH” Spencer squeals, his voice piercing my ears, “My baby has a boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Have you guys had the esteemed anal intercourse yet?”

My mouth hangs open. “No.”

He huffs. Eyebrows probably narrowed and eyes wide. “So you’re still a virgin.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

My thumb hovers over the button but I make no attempt to actually push it.

“No don’t leave me.” Spencer yells. “You’re my only friend.”

“Bye Spencer.”

“Go get some Rybaby,”

Sometimes Spencer Smith confuses me.


	4. 4- Wiki how: To have your first kiss

‘They’re closing down the beach.’

I press send on the text with shaking fingers, seeing the little typing button come up on Spencer’s side of the chat.

‘Why?’ The message reads.

‘Some hotel’

‘How you feeling?’ He asks. I can picture him sat on the sofa, Jon playing with little strands of his hair and occasionally tugging on the ends as they giggle and watch the film playing on our small, box shaped TV. He’ll smile sadly at my messages, knowing exactly what this place means to me and feeling like there’s more that he could be doing.

‘Sad?’ I type, before going back on the message and deleting it. ‘Confused.’ I settle on.

I’m sat on the wall that lines the beach, legs crossed underneath me and head in my hands.

Brendon should be here by now.

‘You’re having fun though?’ Spencer asks.

My response is short, a few words of agreement then the conversation is over and I’m back to just waiting.

The sun looks nice, the clouds are swirling around the grey sky but still it beams through and just looks straight at me with a smile. It’s not that cold anymore, the scarf around my neck feels more like a fashion statement than a necessity and I’ve always had an unnecessary hatred for the people that feel like they need to stand out.

“Hey.”

He doesn’t move to sit next to me. Instead he stands a few metres away, his breathing shallow and footsteps light.

“Hey,” I say.

He moves to stand behind me, his hands ghosting over my hips as we stare out at the sea.

“We have a reservation,” He says, “You look nice.”

“Thanks,” I say shyly, turning around on the wall to face him.

His hair’s poking up in small strands, a tight black shirt covering his torso and making my eyes widen. He looks hot, I can’t deny that. The words in my mouth seem to evaporate when he produces a blood red rose, holding it up to my face with a grin. “For you,” He declares, doing an elaborate bow. “Now would you do me the honour of accompanying me to this meal.”

“It would be my pleasure,” I say. I take his hand in my own, hopping down from the wall and nearly falling flat on my face. “Let’s go.”

.

The restaurant we’re at is stuffy and the people at the other tables all stare with venom in their eyes at mine and Brendon’s intertwined fingers. His thumb lazily brushed over the back of my hand making my heart flutter as I look into his eyes and find him staring straight back. I want to just focus on us, make him as happy as I can but instead I find myself scowling over at the waitress that’s twirling her blonde curls with her fingers and batting her fake eyelashes at Brendon with a flirty smile.

“Anything else you need?” She asks, pushing her chest forwards as if that would make him just start begging for her approval.

“For you to fuck off.” I mutter under my breath.

Brendon snorts loudly, drawing the attention of the elderly couple a few tables away who shake their heads and go back to their meal.

“What was that?” The girl asks.

I shake my head, giving her a small wave as if to say her presence was not needed and she stalks off, rolling her eyes at me in disbelief.

“You don’t like it here.” Brendon says and honestly it wouldn’t take a genius to figure that bit out. Brendon, I’ve learned, loves to talk, he’s loud and his jokes are immature but at the same time he pays attention. He can look at me and know how I’m feeling by the quirk of my eyebrow or the parting of my lips. He’s kind of perfect in that way. He can listen too, there are a few things in life that I haven’t told anybody, the burden of my problems too much to just unload on somebody else and I’m not going to but I want him to know. I want to just talk to him every second of every day. He just makes me feel safe.

That was cliché.

“No it’s fine.” I lie.

His hand tightens around mine and I smile, warmth flooding through me when I see his knowing smile. “We can go if you don’t like it sugar.”

The name makes my cheeks flush and I dip my head to hide the red colour my face has probably turned. He doesn’t even know what he’s doing to me.

I pretend it’s alright, shaking my head and looking down at my lap to ignore the fluttering feeling in my stomach. It feels weird, the prospect of going on a few dates with a guy then going back to the other side of the country while he leaves for Vegas but I like that. It’s different for me. I get attached quickly and when I do the heartbreak is even worse. Knowing there isn’t a future in this feels better than pretending there is.

People are still staring at us, distaste evident in their eyes and I lean forwards. Wipe my face with the back of my hand to push away the sweat and close my eyes. I’m breathing heavily and don’t even know why, I want them to stop looking I want them to all just fuck off.

“Ryan.” Brendon says sternly and I shudder at his tone. There’s another hand holding mine and out of the corner of my eye I can see Brendon leaning forwards pressing a chaste kiss to my knuckles. “Ignore them.”

I can’t, he doesn’t understand it but I can’t.

“I’m sorry.” My chair screeches as I push it back and my feet move quicker than the rest of me as I brush past the other tables to the door. Footsteps chase me from behind but I keep on moving letting the cold air hit my face.

“Ryan?” Brendon calls out from behind me, his hand grips around my wrist and I stop, spinning towards him to meet his defeated expression. “What was that?”

I breathe in slowly, “They, they were, they were all staring, I couldn’t Bren.”

The name slips through my lips before I could say anything and he smiles sadly. “It’s okay,”

His hand cups the side of my face, brushing over my cheekbone with unintentionally rough fingers then bringing my face closer. His breath is distorted, not able to keep up a full pattern and his lips are parted, inches away from mine making me wish I had the confidence to lean forwards and claim them. “Do you want to kiss me?” He asks, sounding hoarse, “Because I really want to kiss you.”

His breath hovers over my chapped lips, ghosting over the skin with shallow puffs. I smell like cigarettes and I can tell he knows by the way his nose scrunches up for a second before it drops back down. When his lips touch mine I freeze, not knowing which way to turn or what to feel so I let his grip tighten and his tongue run along my immobile lips.

He notices my state, immediately pulling away with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry,” He says though I don’t really know why. “I should have waited for you to answer-”

“What?” I raise my eyebrows, struggling to make eye contact with him.

“You didn’t kiss back.”

Oh, yeah.

“I didn’t know,” I say, hands turning nervously, shirt sleeves turned up and touching the ends of my wrists. I stumble through my words, needing something to distract me from the feeling of hurting Brendon. “That was the first time I’ve kissed anyone.”

His jaw drops and the hand on my cheek was there again, moving slowly and surely. “Why?” He asks in a tight voice, “You’re so beautiful.”

“Not everyone thinks that,” I shrug. His lips hover away from my own and he mumbles a few words telling me to go with it as he works his lips against my own. He tilts my head with the palm of his hand giving him space to slip his tongue forwards to run against my bottom lip.

“You taste nice,” He murmurs and I know he’s too caught in the moment to actually know what he’s saying. The nicotine lingers on my breath and I’m passing it to him with each movement but he doesn’t mind and takes the power I’m giving to him gladly.

“Was that okay?” He questions and I know he wants me to answer but I’m too focused on the way he felt against me to struggle out a logical string of words. “Because I think I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“Yeah,” I say, sounding breathless.

Brendon smiles at me, that fucking smile, his eyes glisten and mouth turns up and I want to see that smile for the rest of my life, every single day.

He takes my hand in his and leads me down the road, buying us drinks from a bar just off the corner and waiting till we’re both too drunk to walk to leave. I smoke outside, feeling my lungs close up and go black before stubbing out the end underneath my shoe.

Brendon sings as we run down the streets, screaming the lyrics to some song from the 90s and pulling me along behind him. We dance to non-existent music and run into the sea with closed eyes and open hearts.

It’s cold and the temperature of the water shocks us and does it’s best to take the high away, but it doesn’t work. Somewhere along the way Brendon lost his left shoe and his shirt but when we collapse across the beach it doesn’t matter. My hand traces patterns onto his chest and my lips touch his shoulder where his tattoos end and his peachy skin shines through.

It’s nice, being here with him, having his arms wrap around me and give me more warmth than I deserve, and it’s new to say the least but for the first time in 19 years I don’t just feel safe.

I feel alive.


	5. - Wiki how: To know if you're overreacting

Sleeping outside with your lover feels like a good idea in the moment. In the moment, you think about waking up with the sun beaming down at you, happy smiles shared when you stretch out. You think you’ll see the pink skies and gentle waves, dry sand warm and soft underneath your sleeping body and your lover sat awake, running their hands through the locks of your hair.

Turns out that’s not how real life works. Thunder jolts me awake and small bullets of rain pierce my skin. Brendon isn’t next to me and it makes my heart pang with sadness. The sleeve of my shirt wipes away the droplets of water letting me see clearly and notice Brendon stood up with one shoe, tugging his shirt back onto his body.

“Shit, shit, shit,” He swears cursing the weather to the deepest depths of hell and back. “Fuck England.”

Strong hands, pick me up from the floor and I’m enjoying it too much to tell him that I’m awake. His hand’s on the back of my neck, rubbing circles into my skin softly and I lean into the touch without thinking, purring quietly.

“Ry, Ryan.” He says softly, “Wake up sugar I’ve got to get to work.”

Rubbing my eyes, I move my head from his shoulder to stare up at him with a smile. “Hey Brenny,”

He smiles at the name, running a tentative finger along my jaw. “I have to get to a meeting.” He says, hair falling down in front of his face.

Water drips down his neck and my eyes shift to the spot, “Why?”

“Because today’s the fourth and my company wants to start work on the sixth.”

Frowning, I curl up into his side, legs wrapped lazily around his waist and my arms hugging his side like I don’t want to ever let go. “That’s the day the beach closes down,” I say quietly.

“You’re not happy about it?” Brendon asks, his voice sounding strained.

“No,” I say into his shirt. “My parents weren’t the best and going to the beach once a year made life seem worth it.”

His face drops and I put whatever thought I had to the back of my mind. “You should be thankful,” I say, turning my head onto the side so glance up at him. “Without this beach I would never had met you, it’s my safe space.”

Brendon’s hands loosen around my hips and he sets me down carefully, he scribbles some words on a piece of paper with a pencil he found in his back pocket and leans forwards to give it to me. “Come to my hotel at 5 we should talk,”

Taking the note, I nod, recognising the address as the fancy hotel that sits just outside the town. “About what?”

He looks down at his feet and waves, “Later sugar,”

I don’t feel the need to say anything back.

.

The mirror sometimes likes to judge me. I’ll walk into the bathroom, shirtless to get used to the feeling and stare into the void, my eyes will connect with small spots that I don’t like and they’ll analyse them. On my left shoulder, there’s a mark, it’s fading and distant but it’s still there. The skin around it’s raised and a dark brown colour where the edges meet my pale body, and the gash from the bottle that had broken on me is still there.

I can remember how it happened, I don’t like thinking about it but I remember. I can remember the shouts and the screams that had left my mouth, sounding foreign to even me and I remember how the blood caked my body in dark red splotches before I washed it off. My fingers wander over the marks and I have to pinch myself so that I can tear my eyes away.

Sometimes I think that maybe I’ll get a tattoo to join the dots and make something beautiful out of my scars, but then I think about showing someone and getting their confused stares. Maybe I’d lie about where I got it, I could say I was in some terrifying fight and there were like 10 guys all against me and I fought them off with my bare hands with only a scar to show it. Then I snap back to reality, put my shirt back on and forget about the thought.

It’s almost 4pm and I’m sat on the floor in the shower letting the water run down my body. Feeling the lukewarm water drop onto my face, I run my hands though my hair, pulling on the tangled ends and combing through.

I can see the mirror from where I’m sat, my stubble coating my face in an unattractive manner and I pick up my razor and use the soap from the dispenser to shave. The razor struggles to glide over my skin, nipping at corners and causing the skin to bleed. My blood runs thin down my neck where I don’t wipe it off in time and it stings when I tear off a piece of paper and stick it down.

When my eyes close I think of Brendon, his soft lips grazing against mine and his fingers running up and down my waist, I’m getting hard against my stomach and I throw my head back, hating myself for even thinking of Brendon in that way. It feels like I’m objectifying him and I know that if I told him about my thoughts he wouldn’t be able to look at me in the same way. Every glance that he throws my way riddled with disgust.

I lean back, flicking the shower so that cold water runs instead. The cold sends my senses into shock and I gasp out arms flailing wildly. Soon enough my problem goes away, the embarrassment still floods my body as I’m tugging up my jeans and boxers and doing everything I can to not think about Brendon.

My shirt’s red and hangs loose on my body under a black vest and my fingers miss the loops when I try to button it up. I feel like smoking but then I think about leaving the taste on Brendon’s lips and force myself not to, for him.

.

The streets get wider when I walk into the better part if the town, as though to say the rich deserve more space to walk than the rest of us. I kick my foot against the side of the road when I hop up and go through the doors to Brendon’s hotel. The staff give me odd looks but don’t care enough to stop me as I walk towards the signs that direct me to the room on the note.

The numbers on the room are a copper colour, standing out against the white of the door and when I knock the numbers don’t shake like they do where I’m staying, they stand their ground and stare back at me. I kind of admire them for that.

“Ryan,” The man behind the door says, pulling me into the room by my wrist and smiling.

I smile earnestly, plucking up all of my courage and pressing my lips against his lightly. His words are muffled but after a second he stops trying to speak and just kisses back, holding the side of my cheek softly.

“Ryan,” He mumbles against my lips, nipping down against my jaw to make me squeak. He takes the skin between his lips, his tongue darting out to lap over the bruised skin where he bites down slowly. Trying not to whine when he pulls away, my cheeks go a bright red and I smile down at the floor with my lip between my teeth.

Brendon sighs, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding my eyes. His lips are turned down and I already know that he’s struggling to get the words out, “Ryan I need to tell you something.” Sentences like that never seem to end well.

“Go ahead,” I say. I try not to show how nervous I am but fail when my hands shake and draw his eyes.

“Hey, hey,” He clasps my hands between his own, running his thumbs over my palms to steady me. “Stay calm okay,” His eyes are staring into mine, golden specks drifting around his irises and pulling me in. The way his hands are enclosed over my own makes me stop thinking for a moment and I can just focus on him, so I can just think of Brendon.

“You might not like it,” He says. My heart drops when I look up and don’t see a smile decorating his features, but I force it to the back of my mind and try to just take whatever he says with a smile. “But you know how the beach it being built over.

“I don’t think I understand,” I say cautiously. The thoughts are getting louder but I continue to ignore them all, not wanting to think Brendon would do that. I know he wouldn’t.

“I- well- I’m in England because I’m the one that signed the papers,I thought the beach was blocking the view, figured that a parking lot was what we really needed.”

“Oh,” I struggle out.

“I regret it.” He says cautiously, like he thinks that if he says the wrong thing I might just raise my palm and slap him. “Can you forgive me?”

I guess I’m not always right.

He’s scared, I can feel it. It’s kind of crazy that after a few days of knowing the guy, him just looking at me could make me blush. He stole my first kiss. I gave him my second. And with the third came heartbreak. I guess life just works that way.

“Oh,” I mumble quietly, because that’s all there is left for me to say. “Okay,”

“I didn’t know that it meant that much to you Ry,” Brendon pleads, hands clutching mine even tighter in the way I don’t really understand.

I do my best to sound convincing, looking up at him with innocent eyes. “It’s fine,” I say, pulling my hands back without even thinking about it. “Really, you didn’t know that it meant anything to me. It’s just a stupid beach right?”

Brendon’s defeated look brightens for a split second, before sinking back down with narrowed eyes that rake my body to find out my thoughts. “You’re sure?”

Nodding, I try to force a smile. “I should-” His hopeful smile blinds me for a second and I wish to just get over myself and pull him close to me, but for some reason I don’t. “I mean- I should go back to my hotel.”

“Stay,” Running a hand up my forearm, he bites down on his bottom lip softly. Not in a sexual way, just to show me his nerves without having to face up to them. “With me,”

“I need space,” I say without a second thought, I curse myself out silently for my words and it’s not hard to see Brendon bite down a bit too hard and gasp quietly. “Please let me go,”

“Ryan I don’t know how to make it up to you.” He’s trying and that’s more than I can really ask for.

“I don’t know either,”

“I’ll make things right, I promise okay?” His voice breaks on the last word, going high pitched and throaty for a single moment.

“I believe you.”

I wish I was lying.

There’s no rain outside when I step onto the sidewalk, instead the sun seems to be poking out from behind the clouds and the temptation to flip it off follows me cautiously.

I dance down the streets to distract myself but when I reach the line of pebbles that separates me from the water I stop, and I stare, and I wait.

I’m not waiting for anything in particular. I’m not waiting for the clouds to open up and send me a message. I’m not waiting for the sea to part so I can walk through and I’m definitely not waiting for Brendon to come running down the streets with a singular rose and a declaration of love, but something would be nice.

My hotel room looks the same way as it did when I left. The sheets are crinkled and spread over the bed and my dirty clothes mark the corner of the room where I had thrown my things, a cup of coffee sits on the table, small stains from where I spilt it on the sides and for a second I debate drinking the rest just so I can throw it away without questioning whether the 3 pounds 50 I paid for it was worth anything.

My body tries to defy me as I walk towards my bed, gravitating to god knows where and I feel the room spinning when I pull myself back. I want nothing more than to be sat back in Brendon’s room with his arms around my body and my head pressed into the crook of his neck, I just don’t think I can at the moment.

I feel oddly calm about it, but that’s probably because I know that there’s nothing I can do, the decision has been made and the only thing I have is my resentment, but I don’t think I want to resent him.

I sit down, not bothering to pull a cigarette out to numb my shaking lips or take the blade out of my razor and relapse for the third time. No, I’m not relapsing for this. So I sit, silence filling my ears. I don’t take out my phone and I don’t call Spencer, I don’t go sit by the beach for probably the last time before they build over it, instead I smile. A broken one but a smile nonetheless, a single tear drips down my cheek but I don’t brush it off, it drops onto my shirt and seeps into the material. And for the first time since dad died, I don't cry, I just stop and I think.


	6. - Wiki how: To tell if your in love

I think I’m in love.

I say think before I don’t really know. I don’t know what love is when I actually try and put a definition to the word.

Honestly, I never used to think love was real, and saying it just sounds cheesy but now I do. I think everyone has different meanings when it comes to love, some think it’s those butterflies you get in the pit of your stomach when you see that certain someone, other’s think the spark that you can feel when your lips press together, but here’s what I think.

Love is the longing in your heart where you just want to spend every waking moment with someone, you want to see their smile everyday and trace your fingers along their arm, drawing little hearts and smiles because you don’t want to stop feeling their heart beat under your grip. I think when you’re in love you just know, you don’t need the confirmation of a kiss or the half hearted compliments, you’ll just feel drawn to them, and after that you just don’t want to let go.

Yeah, I’m in love.

I, Brendon Boyd Urie am in love with Ryan Ross.

I love him, but I think I might have lost him.

So tell me, how can you fall out of love?


	7. 7- Wiki how: To give yourself to someone

“He didn’t know,” Spencer argues, his voice echoing into the phone, “You need to talk to him.”

“I don’t want to,”

He scoffs, “Lying ass hoe,”

Frowning, I hold the phone away from my ear to try and come up with an answer. “What type of a person tries to build over a beach?” I say thickly.

“Ryan I swear to god I’m going to go over there and beat the stupid out of you.”

I roll my eyes, Spencer’s kind of all talk. “It’s not like I love the guy Spence,”

“You kind of do though,”

“Do not,”

“Do too,”

“Do not,”

“You fucking do,”

“Okay maybe I do,”

“Talk to him,”

The phone rings silence in my ears and from that I know he hung up, knowing he was right and I have to find the boy who stole my heart.

.

I haven’t moved in hours. My body lays sprawled out over my bed with long limbs dangling off the side and careful fingers running across the small bit of skin that my shirt can’t quite cover. With a sharp jerk I sit up quickly, the knocking on my door chasing me out of my daze.

The door opens slowly making me realise that I didn’t lock it and when I look up my gaze s met by dark brown eyes and a tight smile. There’s a black box in his hands, no lid and I can see delicate rose petals falling from the top.

“What are you doing here?” I ask curtly, my hands mess with my shirt so I can try and just ignore his existence.

“I came to apologise,” He says, tapping the box lightly. He runs a hand through his hair, undoing the little knots the best he could, the bags under his eyes are bigger, as though he hasn’t even slept. “I know you said I didn’t have to but I know that the beach means a lot to you and I didn’t think about what taking it away would do.”

“It’s fine,” I say.

“No it isn’t.” He says, “I’ve known you for like three days but you’re on my mind every second of every hour, I can’t let you go because of a stupid mistake, I want you to know how sorry I am, and I want you to know that I love you. I love you Ryan.”

“When I was 12 my dad told me no one could ever love me.” I say with tears in my eyes. “Which is exactly why you should leave. You don’t love me Brendon. You’re too good for me.”

He drops the box, moving over to me and dragging me to his feet. “Shut up,” He says without malice. “You are more than perfect Ryan, how could I not fall in love with you?”

“You don’t love me,” I repeat, “You’re just out of your mind.”

He moves to cup my cheek in his palm and I almost laugh, thinking about how if I had decided to just get over myself and my troubles I would be in America right now, sitting by a coffin with dried tears on my face and a speech in my hand. “What’s in the box?” I ask quietly, pushing my thought to the back of my mind. I deserve this.

His hands move from my face to run down my sides and eventually pick up the little black box he had brought with him. “It’s not much,” He says, biting his lip nervously. “It’s just my apology,”

He brushes the rose petals off of the box, letting them litter the dirty floor. “I’m sorry,” I say without thinking. “You don’t need to do this, I forgive you.”

“Shut up,” He chuckles softly, reaching into the box and taking out a few polaroid photos. “I took it when we were on the beach, you were drunk off your ass it was kind of cute.”

He hands me the photos, biting his lip with nerves as I shuffle through them, they were just photos, goofy photos of us both running through the water with smiles on our faces. The last photo though, it’s a picture of us on the beach, Brendon lying down on the pebbled floor with me curled into his chest and my eyes closed. He’s staring at me, life in his eyes and a faint blush on his cheeks.

I can’t help the little giggle that slips from my lips when he looks fondly at the photo, “I also got you this.”

He pulls a book out of the box and my jaw hangs open.

“I saw you staring at me that day, on the beach. I figured giving you the book would make things better.”

Invisible monsters – Chuck Palahniuk.

“How did you get this?” I ask, taking the book from his hands with a smile. “You left it by the sea,”

“And you conveniently put it on the wall for me to get the next morning, thanks.”

“You’re giving it to me?” I ask, slightly confused.

Nodding, he opens the pages, showing me the highlighted words and cramped hand written phrases that cover the previously empty spaces. “I wrote down my thoughts and things that made me laugh,” He says quietly. “I love you.”

He takes my hand and holds it tightly, “I think I love you too,” I mumble. I pull his chest closer to mine so that I can feel his staggered breath against my lips, “Yeah, I definitely love you.”

And our mouths crash together.


	8. - Wiki how: To make your first time special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut smut smut smut smut

His lips feel like liquid gold on mine, the small moans of approval he breathes out falling in wisps like light snow on a winters day onto my ears. Ribbons of love are strung between our bodies as we clash together, sliding against each other with the intention of making the other feel like they deserve more than what they’ve previously had to bare.

“I love you,” I mumble into Brendon’s mouth, moving to nibble on his bottom lip, “I love you so much,”

“I love you too,” He says quietly. His hands move to grip down on my waist, pressing small fingerprints into my skin that I’ll trace with my fingers when I’m sat in bed alone one night.

The back of my legs hit the bed and then I’m falling back with Brendon hovering straight over me. “I’ve never, uh-”

He seems to get what I’m trying to say, moving his hands away from my body and making me whine low in the back of my throat. “Do you want to stop?” He asks, and I curl my hands into his shirt and pull him down so that his lips linger over mine and I can catch him in a short, loving kiss.

“No,” I breathe, tilting my neck back with a shuddery moan when Brendon’s lips graze against my throat and he practically bites down against the spot. “Just, slowly, please.”

He nods, my heart swirling and crashing down against my chest when he grunts his answer and lifts me by the waist to move us further down the small hotel bed. His fingers play with the bottom of my shirt and I’m too overwhelmed by it all to even think about what lies underneath.

“Shit,” He mumbles, unbuttoning the front of my shirt and pushing the material to the side. Long, fading scars litter my chest and as he goes to pull down my sleeves I jerk back slightly, not ready to be under his prying eyes. His hands run up and down my sides, and he’s raking my body like he’s trying to find something special.

“I’m sorry I-”

“You’re beautiful,” He says cutting me off with a small kiss. “So fucking beautiful,”

Blushing furiously, I cover my face with my hands, shielding myself from him through sheer embarrassment, “I’m not,” I mutter.

He hums shaking his head, his lips move from my neck down to my collarbones and he makes small marks on the skin, kissing over small cuts to try and give me the knowledge that that’s all over now, I’m happy. His lips press down on the spot on the side of my shoulder that I hate and his mouth slides over the spot, I feel him smile against the skin before bringing my wrists up to his lips. He kisses along the lines and I squirm underneath the warmth of his body and the light tickling feeling I get when his kisses start to feel like feathery brushes against my skin. “You are perfect,” He mumbles and my heart swells in my chest.

My eyes flutter closed, lips meeting mine and hands travelling down to grip my thighs. He fumbles with the button of my jeans and eventually manages to pull down the zip and roll the material down my legs with a quick motion.

“Clothes,” I choke out, pulling at his shirt and lifting it over his head then watching him slip out of his jeans. He smiles softly, reaching down and grabbing a bottle of lube out of the box he had brought. I chuckle quietly, “You’re kidding right?”

“I’m always prepared,” He shrugs. He opens the cap squirting some onto his fingers and I take that as an indication the shuffle out of my underwear with my knees pressed together and hair nestled into the pillow that’s propped behind my head. “Look at me,” He says, placing the bottle next to him, his other hand moves to my chin, lightly lifting me so I can stare into the brown pools I fell in love with.

He taps my legs, telling me to let him trail his fingers along my hole with a single glance. The lube on his fingers feels cold when he tries to push into me slowly. “Here,” He says, taking a pillow from behind me and placing it under my hips to angle them up, “It’ll feel better,”

The sting that rushes through me when he passes through the tight ring of muscle in my body feels like nothing else. He doesn’t move too fast, knowing I’m not ready for that yet but the lust in his eyes makes me throw my head back and forget the pain. I whimper when he works in a second finger and he see’s the look on my face and uses his free hand to hold my own. He rubs the back of my hand to keep my calm as he scissors out his fingers inside of me, “Brendon,” I moan when he crooks his fingers and rubs down against the spot, “That feels so fucking good.”

I hear him laugh lightly under his breath, and the ache between my legs just gets worse as he adds a third finger. The stretch feels like bliss, I don’t want him to move I just want to feel him all the time, I don’t want him to let go of my hand I just want-

My thought are cut off with a long moan and it takes me a second to realise that it spilled from my own lips. Brendon pulls his fingers out leaving me to feel empty for a second before I hear the pop of the cap and Brendon taps my legs to indicate for me to hook them around his waist. His cock trails along my hole and for I moment I debate just pushing back against him and taking whatever I can get, but only seconds later he’s aligned himself with me and is readily pushing forwards.

Whining, I squeeze Brendon’s hand tighter, the other curling in the sheets as a wave of pleasure washes over me. “Shit, shit Bren,” I breathe, clutching his hand when the drag of his cock inside of me feels like it’s going to rip me apart.

He angles my hips upwards, trying to get deeper, his slow thrusts became agonisingly short and I grind my hips back to try and find a reaction. He grunts loudly and when he pushes against my spot I melt into his touch with a high pitched whine.

“Harder,” I moan, not even realising that I’m saying anything just knowing how much I want him. “Please go faster Bren,”

He takes my words with a smirk and he guides his fingers down my chest, faint touches gliding over me before he sets two fingers under my chin and moves me so that I’m back to looking at him.

He leans forwards to run his tongue along my bottom lip and push through. Our lips slide together messily and strings of saliva are drawn between us. He angles his hips as we kiss, thrusting into me with grunts and small strangled moans escaping from his mouth.

“I love you,” He says, not loosening his hold on my hand.

“I love yo-” His thrusts become more frantic and my mind is fogged up, my toes have curled and the hand I have clutching the sheets is rubbing the back of Brendon’s neck to keep his lips on mine and his breath ghosting against me as I tilt my head back to let out a breathy moan.

I’m a whimpering mess, I pull Brendon closer with my legs, burying him deeper and the snap of his hips colliding with my skin makes a loud noise that I’m sure the people in the room next to us can hear.

With every thrust I can feel him, his cock filling me from every angle and I have to bite my lip so that I’m not begging him for more. He reaches a hand down between our slick bodies, a lube covered palm wrapping itself around my cock and moving with the same rhythm as when Brendon slams into my body.

I’m painfully hard, so close to letting go over his hand but I don’t want the moment to stop, I’ve never felt this good, so full and just euphoric. Fuck.

I can feel the heat building up inside of me, whines and moans falling from swollen, bitten lips as Brendon fucks into me. Blood from where I’m biting onto my lip too hard trickles into my mouth but I don’t focus on the taste I just try and feel Brendon inside of me, memorise the moment and smile about it forever.

“Fuck,” Brendon swears, letting go of my hand to hold my hips down and keep up whatever pace he had been going at. “I’m gonna come,”

Moaning, I struggle to find the words to tell him that I am too and instead buck my hips up into his hand.

“Come with me,” He says. He keeps up a staggered pace, and he leans forwards to ghost his lips over my ear as he twists the hand around my cock quickly and strokes faster. My back arches and our bare skin slides together. We moan in unison, my high pitched whimper different to the low grunt he lets out when he buries his head into the side of my neck and fills me.

Pushing my hips into his hand I spill over his fist, my hands clutch his sides and he moves to tangle his fingers in my hair and mark my neck again. He slowly pulls out of me, and I mewl at the emptiness, feeling bare and naked under Brendon’s gaze. “I love you,” He says, drawing on my skin, “I don’t want this to end,”

“Neither do I,” I say honestly. “I love you too,”

He falls onto me and I yell as he crushes me with his weight, wrestling him off of me with stilted laughter, “Get off,” I laugh, “You weigh a tonne,”

“Shut up,” He chuckles.

A stupid smile plastered on my face I reach over to the side and grab my phone, Brendon still leaning into me with my legs around his hips.

‘Hey’ I type sending the message to Spencer with a smirk. ‘Guess who isn’t a virgin anymore?’

I flip the phone closed and throw it back onto the table, Brendon catching my lips again and we both silently agree to ignore the sudden messages I get and instead just lie there in each others arms.

I’ve never felt this secure with someone and I think I’ve realised that my safe space isn’t somewhere where I feel okay, or like I’m enough when I sit by the waves and forget the fighting. I don’t need the beach, I need someone that makes me feel loved.

I need Brendon.


	9. - Wiki how: To let go

“I’m safe with you,” I say into his skin, “You’re mine,”

He chuckles, hands tracing my bare skin where the light is drifting through the window and falling down onto us. “I’ll protect you,” He says, pressing his lips to my forehead softly, “I’ll protect you from anything.”

I giggle, swinging my leg over his waist to straddle his hips, “Food.” I groan loudly, “Protect me from death by getting me food.”

“Get yourself food,” Brendon says, holding my hips in place. “I’m comfy,”

I mewl, trying to shift off of him but he doesn’t let me, “Brendon,” I whine, stringing out my words for him to just laugh at. “Lemme go,”

“Never,” He grips my waist tighter, leaving fingerprints over the ones he made the day before. He guides my neck down to catch my lips between his. “Morning breath,” He says when we pull away from each other.

Smiling still, I drag myself out of his lap and rifle through the box he had brought, “Ooh sour patch kids,”

“Oi” I say jokingly, throwing the packet at him when I stand up, “Were you staring at my ass?”

“Of course,” He says without shame. “Sit,”

He gestures vaguely for me to sit back down in his lap and I do, plopping down without any grace and almost falling in the process. I tear open the packet, placing one in my mouth and squeezing my eyes shut when it gets too sour. Laughing, Brendon runs his hands up my thighs, squeezing lightly and innocently but the touch still makes me blush.

“I love you,” He says, his features turn down when he frowns and he seems to remember something he wishes he didn’t. “When are you going home?”

“Tomorrow,” I sigh. His eyes look at mine with the same in love look I see in my own whenever I look in the mirror. “I’ll miss you.”

Frowning, he plays with the sheets around us to distract himself. “I quit my job.”

Okay was not expecting that.

My eyes widen and I lean forwards to rub my nose against his lightly. “Why?”

“I couldn’t go through with building over your safe pace.”

I shake my head, cupping his jaw, “You’re my safe space now.”

Shaking his head, he smiles, watching me eat my candy with his hands resting firmly on my hips once again. “I love you”

“I love you too,” I say honestly.

His brown eyes stare up into my honey ones and the faint blush that spreads across my cheeks is definitely noticeable. When his glance flickers down onto my chest he drags a plumb bottom lip through his teeth, he smirks, seeing my hum under his gaze before staring back up into my eyes.

“What are you going to do with your life now then?” I ask, not shielding my body from his sight and letting him see what he wants.

“Figured that maybe I could come back with you,” He says quietly. “We don’t have to live together or anything and I get that it’s barely been a week, I just don’t want you to slip away.”

My arms wrap around his neck and I grin against his skin, my teeth grazing over his shoulder when I pull him closer, “You’re gonna get me hard again,” Brendon laughs, nestling his face in my hair and combing his fingers through the ends.

“Tough.” I don’t let him go, savouring his warmth and the roughness of his hands on my torso. “I want to cuddle,”

“Then cuddles you shall get,”

I yelp, Brendon flipping us over so I’m lying on my back with him sprawled over me. He locks our hands together, not letting go until he falls asleep against my chest and all there is left to do is look up at the bare ceiling, no words on my lips that I haven’t had the chance to utter and a smile taking its place.

Smiling is really underrated.

.

When I was 7 my mom bought me a notebook. I had opened the pages and found then blank and didn’t really understand it. She explained to me that I had to write in it, that I had to fill each page with my darkest thoughts and string words together in a way for me to understand. “Keep it safe,” She told me, quoting whatever movie she had just watched to try and seem ominous. “It’s special,”

I believed her, in the notebook I didn’t store words, I stored memories. The good, the bad, everything that’s ever happened to me.

My dad is in those pages, things I’ve always wanted to forget but never had the power to get rid of. My fears are in those pages on the same lines as my hopes as though to say they aren’t different at all.

I took the notebook everywhere, whether it was in my back pocket or just in the suitcase I had decided to leave at the room through anxiety the of losing it. It had power over me, and I didn’t like that.

I weigh the book in my hands, throwing it up and down and only just catching it each time. “Are you sure Ry?” Brendon asks, taking my hand in his and squeezing lightly. “You don’t have to do this.”

Breathing in sharply, I smile, “I want to.”

I throw the old, tattered book into the waves, letting the water wash it away and drag it out into see, dragging it under the water with simple motions until I can’t see it anymore.

“Those were your memories,” Brendon notes, pulling me closer to him “You just let them go.”

“Yeah,” I say like it’s obvious. “I can make new ones.”

“Together?” He asks, eyes flicking to me with curiosity embedded in his irises.

“Together.” I say.

When we drive back to mine and Spencer’s apartment our hands don’t separate once, we let the road guide us wherever it wants to but when we finally get there we don’t go up straight away. We look around, take a look at the life around us and imagine a future. In every thought I had there was Brendon, Brendon and me.

That’s something I can get used to.

**Author's Note:**

> So, whatd ya think??


End file.
